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Graduated from Harvard, Jack took $25.00 a week show job. “I got the ideal breaks — a chance to be lousy!”
expected the very best of people and places and it’s helped him to receive the best,” she explained. His optimistic outlook on life has carried him over the rough spots, while his sensitivity toward others and curiosity didn’t leave much time for him to nurse his own introspective wounds. She stopped and smiled suddenly. “I sound prejudiced, don’t I? And I am — a little. For besides being Jack’s mother, I feel I am also his good friend. Our friendship is what makes this stage of our lives so much fuller than the usual mother-son relationship. Jack charmed me out of a swat to his impudent seat when he was two years old and his grin hasn’t changed in effect a bit. He’s still just as interesting.”
Mildred Lemmon’s blue eyes slowly left the present and started reflecting on the past, back to before the beginning. It all started in a Boston hospital elevator. Mildred Lemmon stood patiently next to her big handsome husband, John Uhler Lemmon II, while repairmen frantically tried dislodging their stuck elevator. It had stopped on its way to the delivery room. In an attempt to keep his wife calm, John Lemmon made near-hysterical jokes and told shaggy-dog stories for nearly an hour. The elevator was repaired just in time for Mildred to deliver her son, John Uhler Lemmon III, in the proper room. Perhaps the elevator was an omen. From that moment on, life for young Jack was a series of ups and downs.
“I guess Jack was lucky,” Mildred Lemmon mused again. “It all depends upon how you look at it, I suppose. If you call it lucky that he wasn’t dead before he was seven. That he didn’t have his foot cut off or wasn’t drowned in mud when he was five, or break his neck when he was four — all natural outgrowths of childhood curiosity— then yes, you could call him lucky!”